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The Graces, three erewhile, are three no more;
A fourth is come with perfume sprinkled o'er.
'Tis read more
The Graces, three erewhile, are three no more;
A fourth is come with perfume sprinkled o'er.
'Tis Berenice blest and fair; were she
Away the Graces would no Graces be.
The heathen in his blindness
Bows down to wood and stone.
The heathen in his blindness
Bows down to wood and stone.
There's a one-eyed yellow idol to the north of Khatmandu,
There's a little marble cross below the town,
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There's a one-eyed yellow idol to the north of Khatmandu,
There's a little marble cross below the town,
There's a broken-hearted woman tends the grave of Mad Carew,
And the yellow god forever gazes down.
Who hearkens to the gods, the gods give ear.
Who hearkens to the gods, the gods give ear.
Nature's self's thy Ganymede.
Nature's self's thy Ganymede.
And that dismal cry rose slowly
And sank slowly through the air,
Full of spirit's melancholy
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And that dismal cry rose slowly
And sank slowly through the air,
Full of spirit's melancholy
And eternity's despair!
And they heart the words it said--
Pan is dead! great Pan is dead!
Pan, Pan is dead!
Shakes his ambroisal curls, and gives the nod,
The stamp of fate, and sanction of the god.
Shakes his ambroisal curls, and gives the nod,
The stamp of fate, and sanction of the god.
Speak of the gods as they are.
Speak of the gods as they are.
